I don't really have a guide. I just have five tips. But I work in the business of writing snappy headlines, and I just thought that one might get me some more clicks. Please forgive.
Anyway, because I'm the ultimate over-sharer, I'll give you some background here before I dive into the topic at hand: Last time I was pregnant, I was between jobs. Meaning, I had to switch insurance providers around week 18 (and I was actually UNINSURED for at least a full month. That wasn't stressful at all, nope). I even missed my 20-week anatomy scan completely because of this, and I had to get it done once my new insurance plan kicked in, at like, 28 weeks. Awesome.
So, once I finally got enrolled with Kaiser Permanente, a lot of the doctors and midwives were all, "OMG, yes. We need to get you seen and scheduled for 90 things and more bloodwork has to be done and did you make a birth plan and MAN your due date is soon. You signed up for childbirth class, right? Tell me you signed up for childbirth class."
I had not.
Apparently I was supposed to do this STAT, like, upon my enrollment with KP, but I was way behind, and working a million hours a week, so I had to stalk this one phone line and try to sneak our way into a class. These fill up months in advance and are only offered on Saturdays.
I finally was able to schedule something ... for when I was 38 weeks. I think the woman manning the phone line just felt bad for me. Haha, and then my class was filled with all these tiny little things who were like, "I'm due in May! Teehee!" Meanwhile I could barely see over my bump, and I was all, "yeah, I'm due in a week or two." Our instructor was even like, "OMG you're to term! Why are you here?"
Good question, ma'am. I'm irresponsible.
Also, we were definitely the least serious people in class, despite my impending due date, and I remember laughing so hard that I cried and possibly peed a little. Just over something stupid with James. Oh and I followed the MSU-Maryland football game on my phone all morning. It was an eight-hour class! Although I will say, I was glad we went, even if I used approximately ZERO of the tips they provided. It did give me some idea of what to expect, what the different phases of childbirth entailed, etc. It was nice to check that item off my list.
HOWEVER. At one point, we had to go around the room and say how we envisioned labor unfolding. Like, did we want the epidural upon arriving at the hospital, or were we hoping to go natural, or what? I gave my usual answer: "I'm not like, dead set against the epidural, but I'd like to give labor a shot and see how it goes before I decide if I need the drugs." And then after class, one of the instructors who had identified as going all-natural several times, was available for questions. So I asked her how she did it. She said that she and her husband used the Bradley Method, but there obviously wouldn't be enough time for us to follow suit (for those of you who are unfamiliar, classes run for 12 weeks if you go that route).
When I asked if she had any other recommendations on how to survive without an epidural, she kind of ... laughed at me? I mean, she was nice enough overall; there was just something in her tone that seemed kind of condescending. And her giggle was like, "Oh, this silly girl who didn't even pay attention in class. Best of luck to you!" Anyway, she advised me to read "The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth" and kind of sent me on my way.
This is when I kind of panicked.
I was all, "Damn it, why didn't we take a class sooner? Or research the Bradley Method or hypno-birthing or SOMETHING? Did I honestly believe I was going to survive this on my own?"
And James said something like, "Yes. You will because you're stubborn. I doubt you'll get the epidural, just because you're difficult like that and now you have something to prove, and plus, didn't our moms survive natural labor? I doubt they enrolled in like, a special 12-week class. Women have been doing this since the dawn of time."
He's my ride or die, fa sho. Also, solid points.
So, I proceeded to order that book on Amazon (it was pretty good actually, although I mostly skimmed it), and then I think I borrowed a book on hypno-birthing -- that, or I Googled the absolute shit out of it -- and I just kind of made a plan: I would pretend labor was a super long bikram yoga class, I would play dead in between contractions, keep my mind CALM and low-key af, and breathe. I think I ended up pretending each contraction would only last seven deep breaths. I would survive.
And, spoiler alert, I did.
I think for the sole purpose of proving that childbirth class instructor wrong, I didn't get the epidural. Also, I felt largely in control of my labor, with only one section where I kind of felt overwhelmed (this was transition). You can read my full birth story here, if you choose, but without further ado, I'll (finally) share five tips on how to survive without a needle in your spine.*
*And for me, that's really what this thing came down to, outside of wanting to test my body and my limits: Did I want a needle in my back? For some reason, I was very freaked out by the idea. I really wasn't trying to be a hero -- and I'm also not saying I'm dead set against an epidural for baby #2, if the situation really warranted one. I'll just have to think long and hard about that needle.
 |
| A quickie reminder of why we endure this at all. Baby snuggs! (This was snapped about 3 seconds after pushing her out). |
Also, final final aside, but I just wanted to say that I give 0 f's about how you delivered your baby: C-section, epidural, no epidural ... I truly don't judge. I just wanted to do what felt right for me, which was attempting a drug-free, vaginal childbirth. I say that my experience was MOSTLY natural because I recently heard some girl say hers didn't count because she had to get oxygen at the end. WHAT!!! In that case, I had a Tens Unit on my lower back for an hour or so (which is a fancy massage tool), something slipped into my IV for an hour or so (I had been awake 24+ hours, and had been in hard labor for awhile, so we decided I needed to rest up before pushing), and the nurses slipped me some oxygen for the major event itself. (Actually, I didn't even get to weigh in on that. I was just gassed and they put it on me). I would say zero of these interventions made any damn difference in my pain level -- I still felt ... basically everything. But if those are gonna stop me from claiming natural labor, then so be it. I was *mostly natural,* sorry to let you down, Kaiser volunteer who I'll never see again.
(Actually I bet that lady's so pumped that she was right).
ANYWAY ANYWAY.
I just wished I could have read something like this before I gave birth. So in the hopes of helping just one of you, here are my five tips on surviving without an epidural:
1.) Either zone in or zone out. No middle ground.
This applies to contractions.
For me, contractions were the tough part. K, maybe not till I was like, a 5 or a 6, but once they started coming in hot and fast without much recovery time in between, is when I had to put in the bulk of the work. When I say "zone in," I mean, if you're gonna ride the wave of the contraction, ride it. Breathe through it. Envision how good it will feel once it passes. Remember that the pain is temporary and manageable. Each step brings you closer to meeting your baby. Concentrate on your breath and remain calm, above all else. On the flip side, if you're gonna zone out, zone tf out. I had SportsCenter on my TV in the background, and I had watched the same Redskins highlights about 94 times (mostly because SC kind of plays on a loop overnight). I didn't think about the game, I didn't think about what was happening down below, I just focused on the shapes on the TV and put my head somewhere -- anywhere -- else.
 |
| Just arriving at the hospital. I clearly had no idea what I was in for. PS should I bring my own hospy gown this time? |
2.) BREATHE.
I know, breathing has already come up a few times, and it's kind of a theme here. But I mean it! You will not survive if you get all panicky and you cry and you overthink things or you're scared for the pushing or what's to come down the road. Stay in the moment. Follow your breath. I swear I mean it when I say, I didn't have time or energy to panic. (And I kind of wanted to, at times). But I knew it would throw off my ENTIRE GAME PLAN if I freaked. So I held off. I breathed through my nose sometimes, through my mouth other times, I alternated nostrils, and I tried to get as many deep ones in as I possibly could. I learned this from hot yoga, but breathing really feels good if you're doing it properly. It's like, medicinal. Plus, I thought my body would take cues from my brain, so I knew the key to mental relaxation involved as much airflow as possible. The only downside was, my lips got chapped af probably halfway through, and I was so focused that I really didn't/couldn't slather on some Chappie until I was done. Also I lost my voice.
Another yoga tactic for you: Take a few minutes (well, take as long as you can, really), to focus on releasing each part of your body. You never know where you might be holding onto tension. Relax your hands. Your fingers. Your neck. Your throat. Your shoulders. Until you're melted into a puddle on the bed. Repeat every few hours. Breathe evenly throughout this process. You need distractions, and this is a really helpful way to go.
3.) Try different things.
I actually did not take this tip that I'm doling out, but I hope to with #2. The nurses kept being like, "Try a new position! Wanna walk around? Let's have James massage your lower back!" And I shook my head in silence: nope, nope, nope.
The nurses did seem to want to help. I thought I'd want to be mobile: walking the stairs, bouncing on my birthing ball, taking a hot shower ... but because my water had broken, and my hips/lower back were in excruciating pain (Ana was sunny side up), all I could do was alternate between sitting and lying, and I wanted nothing to do with anyone.
So like, if the tip "try different things" doesn't apply to you either, just know that listening to your body is just as important. I thought I was letting the nurses down at first, for being so unwilling, but James was like, "this is your show. You do you." <--- A wise one, he is.
But I still like the idea, in theory, of mixing it up.
 |
| #goals |
4.) No talking.
Save your energy for the breath. Unless you truly have something to say, I found it to be easier to STFU and get into my zone. I dismissed James (politely) and he largely slept all night.
It's like, have you ever been so truly exhausted that you couldn't even lift a pinkie? I think back on track practice in high school where we'd have to run four 400-meter dashes in a row, all under a certain time, or we'd have more rounds tacked on. God those were painful. I was pushed to my limit so bad, I could just collapse in the infield during my minute or so off, and I swear I couldn't even lift my hands over my head. I would just die for 60 seconds. I needed all my energy for the next round.
It's kind of like that. If you're in transition, or you're getting close, even talking will feel like a major task that might derail you or knock you out of the game. I found it easiest to just avoid. And that's big time, coming from me. I'm chatty.
5.) Save your strength.
This is kind of what I just touched on. Don't waste your energy on dumb shit -- pour it into the task at hand. And eat a full meal before you go in, which will give you strength -- I thought a handful of pretzels was cute, but then we snuck in a large Jimmy John's order right before I got IV'd up, and I honestly don't think I would have made it through without that sub.
(And this is despite the fact that I went through a nauseated period where I was like, "Damn it #2 with an oatmeal raisin cookie, I will VOM on my bathrobe if someone doesn't bring me a bucket!") <--- Guess I broke the no-talking rule for that little tirade.
And yes, I know, I know. Most hospitals won't let you eat once you get checked in. Kaiser was boss. But don't be like me. If your water breaks or you feel like you might be heading to the hospital soon, get some FUEL in there! Eat a big meal with protein. Also, who knows when the next time is that you might be able to eat?
Also ALSO, ain't no hunger like a post-birth hunger. So start brainstorming now on where you'll send your husband for take-out. We did Indian after Ana, but this time I'm thinking Italian.
-----
The best thing I can compare labor to is a race, if you've ever run any type of distance. Toward the end, when you have 0 in the tank, you just kind of have to power forward anyway, keep your legs pumping and your breath moving, envision the end, and the next thing you know, you'll be done. Of course, I've only had one baby. (Again, and this was just MY experience and I realize a lot of these go differently). I don't mean to make it sound too hard or too easy. I think my mom made it sound WAY too easy, and I remember thinking in the heat of the moment, "CHRIST this is hard!"
And then I was so scared to push. I even told the nurse right when I thought it was time, "I don't know how to do this! This is the part I've mostly feared!" and she was all, "You've done GREAT. Just follow our instructions, breathe, and the baby will be here in no time." She was right. Pushing felt weirdly good, and even the moment Ana's head finally slipped out -- it wasn't so bad. I'd way rather push her out than be dialated to an 8 all over again, questioning if the end was near.
I don't even remember "the scary part" all that clearly -- I swear, I couldn't, even like, a few days postpartum. You just go into this zone and it's almost an out of body experience.
But I really think that if you go in expecting to put in the work, and you want to labor naturally, you can do it. (It is called LABOR, after all). I mean, and if you don't wanna do it, that's cool too! But don't be intimidated by the process, and don't read or listen to the horror stories. I promise it doesn't have to be that bad.
 |
| 8 pounds, 13 ounces of pure chunk. |
Now someone please remind me that labor No. 2 is typically a lot shorter! Because I half wrote this post to renew my own confidence. I remember the intensity and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still a touch nervous.
xoxo and good luck!
No comments:
Post a Comment